Sleeping with Ghosts
by Clare Mansfield
Summary: After years of tension, suspicion and betrayal two old friends come to realise that they've wasted too much time. A varying perspective piece that follows on from Without you, I'm nothing but can be enjoyed without it. DEFINATELY SLASH.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I hope many of you have decided to venture across from "Without you, I'm nothing" and won't be disappointed with what you find here.

It is a short one this one, divided into four parts. In the first part of our story it is the last time Remus and Sirius see each other before James and Lily die and Sirius is sent to Azkaban. Warning: Angst and some (in many ways) resolved tension!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter so there is no need to sue!

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The door was ajar when Remus returned and, instinctively, he drew his wand. There was no light from inside and, from somewhere outside, a car alarm began to sound. Using this noise to his advantage Remus pushed the door further open with one foot, all the while his eyes fixed on the space in front of him that was gradually increasing as the door crept open. A voice of the Muggle owner of the car could be heard shouting, cursing at the alarm that had woken him, before silence once more descended as Remus, very carefully, edged into the room.

Inside was bathed in darkness. Whoever it was that had forced their way in hadn't bothered with lights, nor had illuminated the scene before them with a wand. Remus held his breath, fearing that this could only mean danger, as he took another step into the room, allowing the light from the landing outside to creep across the floor. A table with books, mugs and papers lit up in the cool, gold light; everything appeared where he had left it. Remus could breathe a little easier as nothing appeared particularly disturbed, yet as he allowed himself to apply enough pressure to the door behind him to send it swinging shut, the room was plummeted into an opaque blue darkness, broken only by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

"_Lumos!"_ A bright light pierced the sound and as Remus directed to the place that the noise had come from, he saw Sirius sitting in the low, squishy armchair beneath the small, square window.

For a moment the men surveyed each other as though they were strangers, before Remus lowered his wand only slightly with the words, "You should have knocked."

Sirius laughed shortly at this, one lag dangling over the chairs arm as he balanced his wand between his forefinger and thumb, allowing it to beat against his hand as he replied, "Somehow I had the impression that you wouldn't let me in."

"Is that surprising?" Remus' response was swift as he slowly made his way closer to the table, making absolutely certain that everything was there. His wand, although slightly lowered was no less of a threat, as he met Sirius' eyes as he said, "You shouldn't leave things lying around if you don't want people to read them."

The light through the Venetian blind that was tapping against the frame of the window that Sirius was sat before sent stripes across the room. Remus muttered "_Nox"_ so that this was all that illuminated the room, before he replied, tight lipped, "I have nothing to hide."

"I don't believe you," Sirius said darkly. Remus had noticed that he was now handling his wand less casually than before, wielding it in a way that made Remus feel pleased that had freed his own for whatever might follow.

"You never did, Sirius," Remus tried to sound rational, but the pain of the words he was saying was clearly discernable. Through the strips of light Remus could see Sirius' mouth twitch. "You've never trusted me, not really. That's why you can't believe me now."

Remus shifted so his weight was on his back leg as he watched as Sirius slowly rose out of the seat, expecting him to advance towards him, wand raised. Yet Sirius was not moving, the cold wind of the October air that was blowing a draught through the rooms, catching the bottom of his robes.

"We've never been honest with one another, Moony," Sirius said in away that made Remus feel that the use of his old nickname was cruel. "If you're truly honest with yourself you'll understand that, and understand why it is that we can't trust each other now."

Remus could feel that he was trembling slightly; whether this was with the cold anger that was coursing through his veins or the freezing breeze he could not be sure.

"James and Lily deserve more than this…" was all that Remus could manage to say, causing Sirius to laugh, shaking his head, sending dark hair falling in front of his face.

"You're not wrong there." As Sirius said this, he took a step away from the inset of the window, his face plummeting into shadow. Although his wand was by his side Remus sensed that it would soon be raised. He did not move back. "That's why I'm here. I won't let you betray them. I won't let you do this to Harry…"

"If you can live with yourself knowing that it's you that's responsible," Remus managed to splutter, half furious half fearful. He saw Sirius' eyes glint dangerously as they emerged in a line of light. "If you can come here, ready to fight me, knowing that you have no-one but yourself to blame for what could happen to them…"

"Spoken like a guilty man," was Sirius' snappish reply as he, in one swift movement, raised his wand and moved to stun Remus. Yet Remus had been too quick, causing the curse to deflect away and smash the teapot on the table, as he quickly moved backwards, unwilling to cause real harm.

"Don't do this, Sirius," Remus gasped, seeing that Sirius was not listening as he once again prepared to curse him. Remus moved to the side and sent a hex back that caused Sirius to yelp and clutch at his right shoulder where he had been hit. "I don't want to fight you."

"But if it's my fault," Sirius said, half snarling through the pain of his injury. "If I'm the one betraying James and Lily, why wouldn't you want to hurt me?" Remus couldn't answer. His hand was gripping the back of the chair; his knuckles had turned white. Sirius laughed sourly at Remus' silence, sweeping his hair back from his face, which was manically alight. Remus straightened, preparing to defend himself, as he watched as Sirius lowered his hand from his shoulder, looking at the blood on his palm, before turning his eyes to him.

"I want to hurt you Remus. I know that you're the one betraying us; you're the one that's sold out to Voldemort. I want to make you hurt the way that James and Lily are hurting; the way that Harry is hurting." Remus' eyes roamed to Sirius' wand which he had once again raised. Perhaps the question of defending himself was irrelevant; perhaps he had no choice but to fight. Sirius cocked and eyebrow, his lips curing malevolently as he looked Remus up and down before saying, very slowly, "I've never performed an Unforgivable Curse before…" Remus' stomach tightened as he watched Sirius face drain of the remaining colour that was detectable in dark light. "I'm told that you have to _really _mean it in order for it to work…"

In the moment that Sirius had hesitated Remus had yelled "_Expelliarmus!"_ and sent his wand flying across the room. Sirius' eyes followed it, perhaps debating whether it was best to retrieve it, but almost instantly he had reached his decision. Without giving Remus time to perform another curse he had advanced, closing the distance between them, resorting to the only weapons he now had as his fist collided with Remus' face, causing his lip to slip and lights to burst in front of Remus' eyes as he fell to the floor.

Before he could think of a curse Sirius had reached down, pulling Remus to his feet by the scruff of his robes, pushing him back against the wall. His hand pinned one of Remus' wrists so hard that the wand he had been struggling to cling on to slipped to the floor. Instead of reaching for it, however, Sirius had kicked it away, back across the room to where his own wand was lying. Yet Remus had managed to gather his thoughts and with unexpected force managed, with his other hand, to push Sirius from him so he fell, knocking his already wounded arm on the corner of the table.

Sirius howled and Remus moved, hoping to reach his wand; hoping to make Sirius stop. Yet fighting through the pain Sirius had scrambled to his feet, forcing Remus backwards once more, his back slamming into the wall as Sirius held him there.

"You can't hurt me anymore, Sirius," Remus said, his voice breathless and bloodied. Sirius was livid, his eyes wide, his lip trembling as he applied, even more pressure, to Remus' chest. "There's nothing you can do to cause me anymore pain…" Yet as he had said this Remus' voice had suddenly caught in his throat; restricted by the lack of air and by something he had read in Sirius' eyes. All words of further warning failed him as the heat of fury engulfed him. He blinked and Sirius was still there, stationary, his mind processing the thought that Remus had glimpsed; his eyes unfathomable, his face now becoming unreadable as all was shrouded in emotion and dark.

Eventually, Remus found his words returning; knowing that if he didn't speak now than it would be his last chance to try and stop what was about to happen. Yet the voice that broke the uneasy silent seemed like it was not his own, the words he spoke were clearly uncertain and infused with fear as he said, shaking "If you kiss me now, Sirius, I shall never forgive you."

It came too late and before Remus could stop him Sirius had used the grasp he had on Remus' collar to pull him sharply into him. His mouth was unrelenting; unforgiving as demanded entry, and he bit down sharply on Remus' already injured mouth, causing fresh blood to appear, and for Remus to yelp as Sirius' tongue entered his mouth. He would not do this, Remus heard a furious voice in his mind screaming; he would not kiss him back. Yet the pressure Sirius was applying grew greater; the force of it causing Remus to be pinned so tightly that every breath he struggled to take was stolen by Sirius' mouth, and as Sirius bit on Remus' bottom lip again, taking pleasure in the blood that he drew, Remus suddenly found himself more angry than he had ever believed possible as he pushed Sirius from him, causing Sirius to stumble backwards before Remus to catch him, before punishing him with a kiss of his own.

Sirius didn't seem shocked as Remus' lips gained the force that they had so passively ignored moments before. He hardly seemed surprised that Remus had now turned the tables so that it was his tongue that demanding entry; that it was he grabbing Sirius by the shoulders, pinching the flesh of his skin hard. Wanting to hurt him as much as he could, Remus pushed his fingers through Sirius' hair, grabbing a handful and pulling hard. But instead of the signs of pain that he wanted, Remus' fury only increased as Sirius laughed against his mouth; his tongue teasing as it moved to lick away the trickle of blood that was trailing down Remus' chin.

Remus made a deep noise in the back of his throat; an indecipherable whimper which caused Sirius to once more place his lips on his mouth. As Sirius kissed him, Remus felt his hands on his back, holding him to him, violently, desperately; his nails digging into the tender flesh at the back of his neck. Sirius' superior strength was overpowering and Remus, exhausted, weakened, slackened his grasp in Sirius' hair; became limp in Sirius' arms. For a moment the kiss continued; teeth scrapping, mouths fusing, married by the mingling of sweat and blood before, with a soulless laugh, Sirius pulled away, panting; struggling to catch his breath.

Remus couldn't move. They were supporting each other; each of them still clinging, their foreheads touching as each of them tried desperately to breathe. Remus had had to close his eyes; he couldn't bear to look at Sirius' malicious expression. His heart was thudding in his throat; he was trembling as the pain and distorted pleasure held him captive, refusing to let him go; pushing him on to ask the question he couldn't stop himself from saying.

"Why?"

Remus had opened his eyes to see that Sirius was still barely inches from his. The sneer had subsided although his face was still a mask of disdain as his eyes roamed Remus' bleeding face. For a moment Sirius said nothing; couldn't answer the question that had been asked. But finally, after what felt like forever, Sirius moved, inching forwards, his lips pressing against Remus' in a kiss that was so unlike the last. The tenderness of it broke Remus, and he stifled a sob against it as Sirius raised his hands, placing them either side of Remus' face as he gently pulled away. He couldn't bear to look; he knew his heart was breaking, and Sirius' grey eyes shimmered for the briefest of moments before he gave the answer that Remus didn't want to hear.

"Because I hate you."

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Please review and let me know your thoughts xxx


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: A little something from Sirius' perspective now; a departure from what we are used to.

This second part is the first time Remus and Sirius see each other after Sirius has been on the run after POA.

Disclaimer: I don't own them so there is no need to sue.

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He hadn't waited long on the doorstep for Remus to answer the door. He was thankful for that at least. He was still nervous that people were watching; waiting to arrest him and take him back to Azkaban. Yet he had escaped and now he no longer had the luxury of hiding, which caused an interesting sensation of fear and relief as he saw his friend's face as he opened the door.

"We can't talk here in the open," Sirius said, barging past Remus who had his body blocking the door. He looked shocked yet Sirius could hardly blame him; for all he knew he should have still been on the run.

The room hadn't changed much since the last time he had been here. It was still sparsely furnished and the table Sirius remembered being cluttered by so many things was now empty asides from a folded paper and a green shaded lamp. Remus had swept back into the room, pulling up one of the dining chairs that stood against the wall for Sirius to sit in, as he took his seat opposite. He folded his arms on the table, waiting for Sirius to speak; and Sirius read in his face a sort of nervous apprehension he had grown so used to of late.

"Got a drink?" Sirius managed gruffly, trying to re-establish some sort of normality to this surreal situation.

"What…oh yes…" Remus rose and turned his back, and as he riffled through his cupboards Sirius couldn't help but notice how patched the robes he was wearing had become. His eyes travelled down to the newspaper Remus had been reading, pulling it towards him to see the job vacancies he had ringed with red ink; Muggle work.

"You can do better than this," Sirius said, allowing the newspaper to fall back to the table as Remus placed two low earthen-wear tumblers between them. A sad smile was a ghost on his mouth and Sirius noticed, for the first time since he had entered, how much his old friend had aged since he had last seen him. His sandy hair was peppered with grey and the lines on his brow and around his mouth seemed more pronounced as he uncorked the bottle he had brought with him.

"I know, but it seems that someone in my…position has little choice in what sort of employment they can get." Sirius pulled the cup Remus had half-filled towards him; his nostrils filling with its highly alcoholic scent. Thank god he had found something stronger than tea.

"Join the club," Sirius said, laughing shortly before downing the burning liquid in one. For a moment his head swam; his vision became blurred then cleared as he shook his head. As his eyes focused he watched Remus take a small sip of his drink before asking, "What's wrong, Sirius?"

"Voldemort's back," was Sirius' curt reply as he pulled the bottle towards him and re-filled his cup. Remus said nothing although he was watching Sirius very closely; he could feel his friend's amber eyes upon him as he continued, "The Triwizard Tournament was the perfect opportunity; the chance he had been waiting for to use Harry to help him reunite whatever's left of his soul to his body…"

"Is Harry alright? Has he been hurt?"

Sirius lifted his eyes, slightly proud at the concern in Remus' voice. He shook his head, hair falling into his eyes, as he stared down into his drink. "No. He escaped, but only just. Another boy died."

Remus' face remained fixed although the frown lines became more pronounced as he didn't allow himself to relax back into his chair. Finally, after silence only punctuated by the low ticking of a clock dragged out between them, Remus' lips barely moved as he said lowly, "It was only a matter of time."

Sirius could say nothing to this so he took another drink.

"What does Dumbledore want us to do?"

"Reassemble the Order. Prepare ourselves to fight in ways we couldn't before," Sirius paused, not fully understanding what he was saying; or perhaps understanding better than he would like to admit. "Harry will need protecting. He can't get to him, Moony, you hear me? I _won't_ let that be Harry's fate!"

"It won't be," said Remus in a voice so infused with determination Sirius found it soothing; so soothing in fact that he withdrew his hand that had been reaching to take another drink.

"Dumbledore thinks it would be a good idea if I lay low here for awhile." Sirius watched Remus' face very carefully as he said this, although he was giving nothing away. He shrugged, perhaps to provoke a reaction, as he mumbled half to himself, "I know you don't have much room. I'll understand if I can't stay."

Remus said nothing, blinking once, as he rose to his feet. Sirius stood too, a little nervy, thinking that this was what he had been waiting for; that Remus would tell him to leave. Yet Remus remained silent as he walked over to the kitchenette, setting a saucepan on the stove that he had magically ignited before saying in a very quiet voice, "If you want a shower…" He paused, turning and pointing to a doorway to the left. "It's through there. There are towels in the bathroom and…" He hesitated and Sirius saw something like mischief in his old friend's face as he said, "I'm guessing you'd appreciate some other clothes to wear?"

Sirius looked down at his clothes; the only clothes he had managed to get hold of whilst on the run. They were tattered and torn; covered in grime and muck and at least two sizes too short.

"I don't know," Sirius said, characteristically rising to the challenge of the tease. "I thought this look rather suited me."

Remus said nothing as he smiled lightly, turning away and placing some bacon in the pan with the words, "Help yourself to whatever of mine you like."

The bathroom was cramped; hardly big enough for the toilet, wash basin and shower it contained. The tiles were yellowing, although Sirius assumed that at some point, in the distant past, they must have originally been white. The pipes groaned as the hot water trickled down in a pathetic attempt of pressure that may have frustrated Sirius before. Yet it felt so good to be out of those clothes; to be washing and making himself clean that he hardly noticed; scrubbing his hair and the stubble of beard that he intended to get rid of when he got out.

He laughed to himself at the way Remus had ordered his shaving kit on the shelf; razor, brush and soap all equidistant from each other. Sirius watched, fascinated, his reflection in the mirror as he shaved away the hair; seeing someone that was much younger and vaguely familiar, staring, slightly surprised, back out of him.

Remus' bedroom was just as humble an affair as the rest of the flat. A desk with a broken leg stood in the corner, littered with dusty, old books. Sirius' eyes roamed the bed with its fading white sheets and for one fleeting, horribly unbidden moment, he wondered who he had shared this bed with. However, smelling the cooking bacon and pushing these idle thoughts to the back of his mind, Sirius opened the wardrobe to find something suitable, before rejoining his friend.

Sirius enjoyed the bacon sandwiches, although he wondered why his friend ate nothing; staring down at the newspaper, one finger idly tracing his jaw line. He would have felt more comfortable if Remus had eaten too. But it seemed he was simply content to wait until Sirius had finished, almost as if to make sure that he ate everything he gave him, before magically banishing the empty plate to the side. Sirius leant back in the chair, transfixed by the new-found smoothness of his face, watching as Remus began to peel an apple and slice sections of it with a wave of his hand. He watched Remus slowly eat his way through the fruit, pausing every now and again to make another circle. Sirius felt like the time was trailing by.

In silence they sat; Sirius was unable to talk about the things he had wanted to say, things he had infinite time to think of whilst locked in Azkaban. It saddened him to see that Remus had aged more than he had expected; every now and again a glimmer of the boy Sirius had known so well shone through, only to be suppressed by the practical man he had become. This is how he coped, Sirius thinks to himself, drumming his fingers lightly on the table, perhaps in a subconscious attempt to make Remus look up. This is how Remus has coped with it all.

Yet suddenly Sirius doesn't want his friend to be coping; he doesn't want to see the carefully constructed ghost of the person he once knew, slicing apples and drawing rings. Selfishly, he wants it all back; he wants the intimacy he has longed for in the loneliness of imprisonment. He wants the tenderness he has craved whilst an exile. Yet Sirius knows as he watches Remus, the lamp light bathing his face, that he is an exile too. He is just a much a prisoner as Sirius is and that, maybe for both of them, it has simply become too much to bear.

"Can we go to bed?" Sirius asked as he stands, the cups jumping on the table with sudden movement. Remus looks up at Sirius, the way he has wanted him to do for hours, yet there is something missing from his gaze which causes Sirius pain.

"You go, if you like," Remus seemed to be fighting himself as he looked down at the paper once more. "I'm not that tired yet."

He had fought the urge to slam the door petulantly as he left, slipping out of Remus' clothes and into Remus' bed, that doesn't smell a thing like the person Sirius remembered. Sirius struggled to fall to sleep; to ignore the knowledge that he was waiting for the moment when his friend would finally acknowledge him and come to bed.

It was hours before this happened and Sirius watched in the darkness as Remus pulled back the sheet, climbing into bed as though to not wake him, before blinking up at the ceiling.

"I'm sorry," were the words Sirius chose to let Remus know that he was still awake. Sirius watched his friend's face as he flinched, closing his eyes briefly as though these words had hurt him, before opening them once more. Sirius rolled on his side, looking into Remus' face, that appeared, all of a sudden, more youthful in the dark. His voice was husky as he pressed on, "I've had too much time to think; and I've realised many of things that I wasn't ready to except before…" Yet before Sirius could say what he had always hinted at before, but never explicitly stated; before he could confess what had taken him thirteen years and the worst kind of imprisonment imaginable to realise, Remus had turned from his back to his side, away from him, before saying in a resolutely hollow voice, "It doesn't seem to matter anymore."

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I hear mumbles of dissent; where is this resolved tension? Read on, dear reader, and let me know what you think xxx


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Here it is...sexual tension resolved...sexual tension that took me over a hundred chapters and a year and half to resolve. I hope I've done it justice and I hope you enoy.

This part is written from a dual perspective.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter so there is no need to sue.

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It seemed to Remus as he lay, watching the chink of green light move gradually across the ceiling, that the morning broke much earlier than usual. Outside the business of the dawn was beginning and he could hear the struggling Muggle milk float in its attempt to climb the hill. He had lain much longer than he thought he should have, listening to the sounds of the sleeper beside him, unwilling to relinquish the warmth of the bed and to move to the coldness of the kitchen. Yet soon it would be the time to move, to have a shower, get dressed, have breakfast and make preparations for what they would have to do. But for now, for this moment in time at least, Remus was unwilling. If he lay like this, not daring to look at the man beside him, he could imagine that no time at all had passed and that this was just one of the many other times they had slept in the same bed; one of the innumerable occasions where something chaste felt, undoubtedly, guilty.

The sleeper beside Remus stirs and, instinctively, Remus moved, sitting up and swinging his legs out of the bed before standing and moving to the bathroom. The electric light is fuzzy and through his blurred, early morning vision, Remus looks at the reflection in the mirror, a little embarrassed of the man that stares back. He is older than the boy who felt these feelings in the past; the lines on his face of the years leaving their mark weren't there when they had been together before. His hair has greyed and his eyes, although recognisable from his youth, have lost the clarity and the hope of the past. His body is more scarred; he feels his transformations more acutely now than he ever did before. He is older; a fragile wreck in many ways, although he is sure his resolution will not fail him. He cannot forgive Sirius this time.

After splashing some cold water on his face, Remus returned to the bedroom, seeing that Sirius had woken in his absence. He does not look so very different, Remus thinks to himself, as he sinks back onto the mattress to sit on the bed. He had thought so last night after Sirius had shaven and washed the dirt that lingered from Azkaban away. It was still there, behind a face that had undoubtedly changed from the boy Remus used to know. His grey eyes still told the story of their youth; remaining as inscrutable as ever.

Sirius turned his head slightly as Remus sat down, his hair stirring, rustling on the pillow, as he said, very quietly, "You hate me."

Remus turned, not expecting this, laughing involuntarily, a little nervously. Sirius did not laugh, however, his eyes remain fixed on Remus' face as he shook his head ever so slightly and replied, "I don't hate you."

It seemed to Remus that the arrogant boy that would have laughed at his words, tossed his head and barked that of course he could never hate him, had disappeared. Something of the old Sirius had died. Where there had once been a desire to provoke and test there was now a hollowness that was apparent; it was there for Remus to clearly read in his eyes.

"We're wasting time," Remus said, rather suddenly, moving to get up and get dressed. But he was prevented from standing any further by a hand enclosing on his wrist, preventing him from moving with the words, "Wait Moony."

The use of the old nickname stuns them both, Remus thinks, as Sirius falters, withdrawing his hand and sitting up. It has been a long time since they have been so familiar and the tension returns, descending swiftly between them, as though it hadn't evaporated all those years ago.

"What do you want, Sirius?" Remus is shocked at the way his voice sounds, so cold beside the warmth of the other. But it has been too hard for too long to give in now, Remus thinks to himself, conceding by resting back against the bedstead.

Sirius cocked his head to one side, a smile of vague amusement tracing his lips as he asked, a little incredulous, "Do you think I want forgiveness?"

Yes, Remus thought to himself, inwardly saying what he wished he had the courage to say aloud.

"Alright then, Remus," Sirius said, his eyes darkly twinkling, slightly cruel. "Forgive me, if you can."

Remus hated him then, more than he hated him before, although he stared, unflinchingly back. He couldn't move, he couldn't escape, nor could he grant the forgiveness that Sirius didn't even seek. He expected Sirius to laugh triumphantly then, to tell him he had won and that it would never matter…that it would never mean anything to him. But he didn't…he didn't say a word as he reached out, very carefully, taking Remus' hands in his, pressing his palms together, his hands either side.

Remus watched as, very slowly, Sirius raised their hands upwards towards his mouth and traced the tips of his fingers with an indiscernible kiss. The warmth of his breath bathed Remus' fingers, tightening the knot in his stomach as he struggled to pull away.

"I've missed you."

The words stung at Remus, striking deep inside his chest like a knife beneath the ribs as he watched, distracted, as Sirius moved to place Remus' hands either side of his face. For a while Remus fooled himself into thinking that it was the pressure of Sirius' hands keeping his in place; that it was that which was preventing him from moving away. Yet as Sirius dropped his hands Remus still didn't move, his palms pressed flush against Sirius' cheeks.

As Remus subconsciously began to move his thumb, tracing the cheekbone softly, unaware of his own movement, Sirius moved into his touch; his eyes fluttering closed as he sighed very quietly to himself. Outside, Remus could hear the tinkle of the milk bottles being delivered; he imagined the red faced milkman stooping down to retrieve a note left by a lonely old spinster. And all the while he fought the urge to reproach himself for what he was doing; for conceding, for giving up, for letting down his guard. He had fought, so hard, with himself the night before to not let something like this happened and yet now he refused to think of what he was doing, terrified that it might stop.

Sirius moved his head so that Remus' hand slipped down and over his mouth, granting Sirius permission to softly kiss the tender flesh of his palm. It pained Remus to feel the cold trace of saliva Sirius left behind him, but as Sirius opened his grey eyes the pain left Remus instantly as Sirius kissed him there again.

If he had got up, if Sirius had not stopped him by now the kettle on the stove would be whistling and they would both be dressed and discussing what they were to do in the fight against Voldemort. Only now that didn't seem to matter; for now, it seemed as if the whole world could wait just as the world had been waiting for something like this to happen.

Sirius replaced his hand on top of Remus' moving it down to his neck, pushing away the hair to cup the warmth of the curve of his neck. Had he imagined it; Remus wonders, perhaps a little too late to be thinking of such things, unable to stop his fingertips seeking out the downy hairs at the back of the neck. Had he always wondered what this would be like, to be here, like this, with him?

"You're thinking why," Sirius said, his voice barely audible. Outside more cars are starting as Muggles leave for work.

"Am I?" Remus asks, his voice no-way near as certain as Sirius'. Sirius nods.

"Why here? Why now? Why like this?"

A small smile curls Sirius' lips as Remus doesn't blush. He is cool, although not cold; approaching this with the same amount of control he might approach any other problematic situation. Remus is almost certain that it is this that makes Sirius smile.

Sirius moves then, after remaining quite still for a long time, placing his hand on Remus' face. It is so different to touch as to be touched; a jolt like electricity makes Remus start at the contact, his flesh automatically goose-pimpled; every hair standing on end. He fights the urge to do as Sirius had done, to incline his head towards the palm. But it is so hard, Remus thinks as Sirius moves to trace a scar that cuts it fine by his mouth; so hard to not just feel without thinking; without considering what the consequences might be.

"I once told you that some scars weren't on the outside," Sirius said. Inwardly, Remus flinched; he remembered that conversation well. "I think we both understand that now."

Remus laughs a little mirthlessly at this, dropping his eyes, for the first time unable to meet Sirius' gaze.

"I think it's too late," Remus said, rising his eyes, his voice wavering slightly. "I think it's too late for all this now. Maybe there was a time and a place where this could have been right but…but maybe that time and place belongs to the past and we have no choice but to accept that."

Sirius was shaking his head, an age old look of resolution apparent on his face. He held Remus' face in his hands, unwilling that he should turn away, wanting him to listen.

"We've wasted so much time, Moony; when we thought we had the luxury of having years to waste." Inwardly, Remus tried desperately to find some point on which to disagree. Yet Sirius had moved closer, closing the distance between them, pushing Remus' hair back from his forehead. He placed a chaste and fleeting kiss on Remus' mouth - which by the time Remus had registered what was happening had ended - before moving back, pressing his forehead against his.

"I've always known that this could happen…that we would be like this…" Sirius' words continued to tumble through Remus' mind as he clung to each statement, struggling to make sense of them all. He had always thought of what would happen if the truth had been spoken; what they would do if either of them confronted that which they had for years struggled, with varying success, to ignore. Only now that it was happening Remus was disbelieving; not of what was being said but that it was being confessed at all.

Sirius kissed Remus' face again, this time his lips pressed against the scar, his hands roaming behind his neck. It became a little bit more real then, with every touch it was less of a dream, and Remus closed his eyes and said, hesitantly, "You don't want this." He moved back and Remus barely opened his eyes to say, foolishly, "You like women."

The bark of laughter seemed so coarse after the lazy silence of the morning and, all at once, as Remus' eyes shot open, it was as if they were once more boys of seventeen rather than men of thirty six. Sirius tried, so hard, to suppress his smile as he said, "The last time I checked, so did you."

Remus' hand had frozen on the back of Sirius' neck as Sirius moved his hand to guide Remus' further. He halted with Remus' hand on his shoulder and, with a mischievous smile, moved his hands to the top of Remus' nightshirt and, as he slipped the first button loose he says, "Stop me…"

Was that a request or a demand? Remus casually wondered as the laughter from Sirius' voice subsided as he undid another button. As Sirius reached the last button Remus was yet to move; he paused only for a moment before slipping his hands under the shoulders and pushing it off. Remus leant forward, helping him to remove it, making enough of a concession for them to both realise that this was not going to stop.

Then suddenly Remus felt self-conscious, embarrassed about the way he looked now compared to the way he looked in the past. He rubbed his arms at pretence of warming them, although mostly to obscure his naked torso from Sirius' inquisitive eyes. Remus felt judged, insecure. This would not be like what they would be used to; it would be different to anything they'd experienced before.

But before this doubt could consume him Sirius had removed his top, with a swiftness that made Remus uncertain of where he should look. Yet his greedy eyes betrayed him as with fascination his eyes traced the familiar contours of a body that was the same, and yet different; a body his own was telling him that he had missed.

Sirius lowered his head, his hair tumbling in front of his eyes as he, very slowly, kissed the well of Remus' collar bone, causing him to shiver. He heard Sirius exhale in a way that was half nervous, half appreciatory, as he raised his mouth to Remus' ear and whispered once again, "Stop me."

This was neither a demand nor request, Remus realised, as Sirius nipped Remus' earlobe with a dark laugh. It was a taunt; a tease; a game that they played until the end. Sirius was giving Remus the choice; they both had a back-out clause; a chance to go back. But as Sirius' lips made contact with Remus' neck, his tongue tracing the pulse that heaved beneath, Remus realised the truth of the matter as he said, breathlessly, "I'm not going to stop you this time."

Sirius pulled back, his grey eyes uncertain, trying to discern whether he had won. Remus was trembling more than he ever had before as he reached out to take Sirius' face in his hands, could hardly breathe as he guided his mouth towards his. Yet Sirius could take a hint and before Remus had closed the distance, Sirius had moved forward, capturing his mouth with his own.

Remus, although he could claim a respectable amount of kissing experience, had never known a kiss to be like this before. Unlike the kiss that Remus had spent years trying to forget, this kiss was softer, more casual. This kiss did not feel bitter or guilty, Remus thought to himself, feeling the way Sirius' arms snaked round his back, pulling him closer towards him. This kiss simply felt good; perhaps a little too good, too soon, Remus thought, embarrassed at his body's inability to control its reaction. Remus moved away, breaking the kiss, breathing hard. And when he opened his eyes he saw that Sirius was smiling before he traced his bottom lip with his tongue.

* * *

It had never mattered to Sirius so much to impress as a lover. He didn't want to be second rate to anyone from the past; he wanted to be the best. He wanted to obliterate any memory Remus had of being with anyone else; he wanted to erase the other times Remus had been in this bed with women; had kissed them; had held them close. As he had traced Remus' bottom lip with his tongue and felt the way he had shivered, Sirius had smiled, unable to prevent him self kissing him again, more forcibly than before.

Remus' hand moved through Sirius' hair and held him, tightly, against him. Sirius shuddered as their chests made contact, fighting the overwhelming urge to rush things, in favour of taking things slow. They had both, if they were honest, waited too long for this to rush it. They had to take their time.

Sirius' resolution, however, was put to the test as Remus fell backwards, lying back on the bed and pulling Sirius with him, unwilling to break the kiss. This new position created new problems for Sirius' sense of resolution as he felt desire hit him as he felt, more keenly than before, the temptation of the prospect before them. For years they had avoided this situation; time and time again they had denied the existence of anything more than chaste friendship between them. Sirius felt Remus trail his hands down the curvature of his spine, hesitating at the small of his back to dance, momentarily there, before, digging his nails in slightly, he drew them back up.

The pain was unexpected although welcome, and Sirius couldn't help but feel pleasantly surprised as he bit down, lightly, on Remus' tongue. Remus laughed throatily before dragging his nails, harder this time, over his back once more, and Sirius pulsed with excitement to think of the marks that might be there.

* * *

Having lust cloud his judgement was not a feeling Remus experienced often. However, as he felt the weight of his friend pressing down on him, his hands moving from back to hips - so different to the curvaceous hips of a woman – Remus found himself unable to think clearly through the intoxicating heat. Every rational thought Remus had was fleeting; stolen quickly by Sirius' mouth, and very rapidly he would switch to instinct, his nails teasing the tender parts of Sirius' body.

Sirius shifted his weight so slightly that Remus barely noticed, although he groaned as their bodies came back into contact. Sirius' eyes were possessive as he moved again, his eyes changing to triumph as he issued another involuntary groan.

Yet as much as Remus cursed himself for being so obvious about his arousal, he knew he was not alone. He knew Sirius too well to not recognise the glazed, predatory look in his eyes as he moved, so slightly, against him; to not notice the way his breath caught in his throat as he tried to remain more impassive than Remus. To Remus, this thought was funny enough in itself. He moved his hands from the small of Sirius' back downwards, pulling him unexpectedly sharply against him as he moved; enough to make Sirius forgo the pretence and moan himself.

* * *

It had never occurred to Sirius that Remus might be such a lover; a lover, he himself had never experienced, with certain skills he would not have thought possible from his, outwardly inexperienced, friend. When he had pulled him into him, causing Sirius to relinquish control and moan unashamedly, his immediate response was to go one better, easing Remus' head back, granting him access to his throat. With one languorous lick, Sirius trailed his tongue up and over Remus' Adam apple and, with a laugh, Remus tried desperately to stifle his groan this time by biting down on his bottom lip, hard.

"Don't be quiet," Sirius says playfully, causing Remus to laugh despite himself. He licked again and Remus, complying, didn't stop himself from making noise. Sirius laughed but as he did so Remus moved, unexpectedly pushing Sirius from him so that he was the one on top.

Feeling powerless beneath a woman was never something that had appealed to Sirius so it came as a shock to realise that, when it came to Remus, things couldn't have been more different. He had grabbed him by the shoulder blades, pulling him close, kissing him feverishly, almost as punishment for the games they had played. His hands were in his hair, pulling him flush against him, making Sirius feel slightly emasculated, although not necessarily in a bad way.

Remus moved again, easing Sirius backwards, pinning him so his arms were above his head, his wrists clasped together. He writhed, rather fruitlessly, trying to get away, but Remus was deceptively strong; much stronger than Sirius recalled him ever being at school. His heart was racing in his chest as Remus lowered his head, wetting his lips before kissing down and over his chest.

Sirius moved his hips and felt Remus' grasp on his wrists instantly relax, his breath whispering against Sirius' throat. He moved again, grinding, issuing a more desperate moan from his friend. Once more and Remus' hands left Sirius' wrists altogether, allowing him to move his hands to Remus' waist and hold him steadily against him.

He nipped his neck, causing Remus to take a sharp intake of breath and to look angrily upon him. As he did it again, he sucked away the pain, relishing in the way Remus' eyes rolled back into his head before they closed. Very carefully, almost as if not to make Remus aware of what he was doing, Sirius' fingers traced down his sides and hooked into the waistband of his trousers and, after moving his mouth slowly down to his shoulder, he slowly began to push them down.

* * *

It was fervent as Remus struggled to push his trousers off, not caring asides from the cold, whether he was now naked or not. At the back of his mind he wondered if Sirius was going to laugh; half expecting it as he laid back and Sirius propped himself on his side, eyes roaming over his body. Yet the sentiments Sirius was expressing were far from humorous; his eyes were exploratory as they fell on every scar that he had yet to see; every sign of growth and of age that had not been there before. Remus wondered how different he must look to him after all the years apart, but as quick as this curiosity had come to him, it evaporated as Sirius raised an eyebrow in suggestion, pressing his hand flat against his stomach.

"Are you going to stop me?" Sirius said, his voice a near growl, as his hand moved lower, fluttering over his abdomen. Remus, speechless, breathless, shook his head as Sirius' hand finally made contact and years of hesitation disappeared in a heartbeat.

He watched with more pleasure than he thought possible at the way that Remus responded to his touch; the way he tossed his head on the pillow and tried, so desperately, to cling to the restraint that Sirius knew and loved him for. With every shameless plea not to stop the devil inside Sirius made him draw away; causing Remus to whimper in frustration. With every movement of his hand, Sirius felt victorious as Remus moved to meet him, undeniably willing Sirius to speed up. But the temptation proved too much for Sirius to ignore and, as he stopped, Remus sat up with a speed that alarmed him, sending a thrill of excitement through Sirius as something primal flashed in his friend's eyes as he asks, desperately, "How much longer do you expect me to wait?"

* * *

"You've waited this long, haven't you?" Sirius says, his words infuriating Remus more than anything he had said and done so far. "What's a few moments more?"

He couldn't wait, Remus knew that now; he was tired of the waiting and the longing. He was frustrated by denial and too exhausted by the tension of years gone by to not posses and be possessed; to not own and be owned. He had loved women, just as he knew Sirius had, but he had never loved men. Sirius had always been the exception, inspiring a desire that he had long recognised, yet never had the courage to acknowledge. He had wanted women, but he had never wanted anyone as much as he wanted Sirius. He had been jealous, he knew that now, but then again, so had he. They had both played games; they had both been deceived but now there was no time left for deception; now they both knew that there were no more innocent explanations to hide behind.

It was now a question of power, Remus realised, kissing Sirius hard as he laughed against his mouth, pulling the remaining clothes off him and pushing him back. Yet Sirius' laughter died as Remus lowered his head and bit his stomach, so hard that it caused Sirius to yelp and grab Remus' head and raise it so their eyes met.

Something silent passed between them, and Remus knew then that Sirius was not only aroused but nervous, unused to feeling powerless, uncertain when not in complete control. It made Remus feel more dominant than he had ever felt with Sirius before; he suppressed a satisfied smile as Sirius' hands moved to his hair, desperately trying to pull him back from what he was about to do. But Remus realised that it was all part of the game; that Sirius wanted this just as much as he did, and as he lowered his mouth he was rewarded by Sirius moaning his name.

* * *

It was too late; he was gone; unable to resist; unwilling to stop as he raised his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. With a woman it had always been so different; a woman had no clear sense of what to do and when. Maybe it was because Remus was a man…or maybe it was because Remus was just…Remus, who approached everything methodically, meticulously, not leaving anything to chance. Would it have been this good, Sirius wondered, if they had done this long before now? The question vanished as with surprising ease Remus moved in a way that Sirius had never known any woman to manage, causing him to forget anything else apart from the feeling of mouth, and lips, and tongue.

Suddenly, too suddenly for Sirius' liking, he felt all his senses begin to tingle, desire plummeting downwards that made him instantly push Remus away. Instead of the looking disappointed, a slight smile traced his mouth, understanding, better than a woman, what this meant. Remus moved away, lying on his front, allowing Sirius to catch his breath and regain control once more. On opening his eyes he saw that Remus, too, had closed his eyes; his face flushed with apprehension that was, entirely, submissive. It would have always have ended like this, Sirius thinks to himself, reaching out gently to caress Remus' back. Remus' eyes opened and he smiled, only once, to let Sirius know it was okay. What ever had happened between them, it had only led them here.

* * *

The kindness on Sirius' face frightens Remus, causing his senses to stop dictating what was happening and for his logic to kick in. Sirius shifted slightly, moving closer so he could kiss Remus' shoulder gently. Remus heard him sigh as he did so and some of his fear subsided as Sirius kissed towards his ear, and whispered very softly, "I wouldn't hurt you."

There would have been in a time in the past, maybe even yesterday, when Remus would have thought this was a lie. But he knew now that it was true; truer now than it ever could have been before, as he feels the mattress move as Sirius moves, so very tentatively, behind him.

He feels the front of Sirius' legs press against his and he knows, without looking, that Sirius is feeling just as much of a virgin as Remus is; unsure of what to do next. He felt Sirius hands caress his stomach, moving downwards making Remus forget, making them both forget what they were going to do. But neither of us wants to forget, Remus thinks to himself through the initial pain, which is so unlike anything he has ever felt before it takes his breath away; almost causing him to falter forwards before Sirius holds him, lovingly, back. He wants to remember every moment, every minute detail so that, just in case this is a dream or something they'll live to regret, he'll be able to remember.

* * *

Sirius halts, worried that it is hurting too much; perhaps scared that Remus will change his mind. But, after a moment of breathless silence, Remus closes his eyes and nods to tell him that he should continue; that he should not stop. Sirius moves again and this time he detects something more pleasurable concealed behind Remus' whimper, and he feels the pleasure mimicked in him as he presses, very carefully, onwards.

Yet again Remus' moans betray him as Sirius begins to move, wondering if it is the same with a man as it is with a woman; considering, for a moment, whether he'll be equally as good at both.

But it is not the same, Sirius realises, feeling more aroused than he has ever felt with any woman as he moves, with less caution, inside him. Although his hands are on his lovers hips, just as they would be with a woman, it is different; a woman wouldn't move like this. He lowers his mouth and kisses Remus' back, causing Remus to move back with an abandon that takes Sirius off guard. He kisses again and the motion is repeated, only this time Sirius moves to meet him and the rhythm is established. He doesn't want to rush this, Sirius thinks to himself, fighting the urge to move his hands from Remus' hips and to mimic the movement on him. But as Remus moves backwards, a little more urgently, Sirius realises that they've done enough waiting and, with no further thought of self-control, he moves his hands.

* * *

Although the pain had subsided it still lingers, a dull ache behind the pleasure that Remus can not ignore. But the more time that passes the more Remus realises that the pain was not apart from the pleasure, but part of it; part of the joy of being possessed and being, so entirely, submissive.

This is how a woman must feel, Remus thinks to himself, moving back, feeling the increasingly vigorous thrusts as if they past through him, always threatening to throw him off balance. This is how it must feel for a woman to give herself to a man.

But he is no woman, Remus realises, unable to distinguish from whose limbs were whose; the only discernable difference between the moaning voices was the increasingly frequent groaning of a name. And Sirius is no woman, Remus thinks to himself, knowing that they are both close; causing both of them to forget tenderness and trepidation, barely thinking of pain yet aching because of it as it becomes more violent, more vigorous.

* * *

He tries to cling to the thought of not hurting him, but every time he does the feeling is replaced by the pleasure of watching Remus moving before him. His voice catches every time, and Sirius thinks of the way he must be gripping the pillow in a way he has never done with any lover before.

This thought is enough to spur him onwards, to forget the care he wishes to take in favour of the way his heart catches every time Remus has said his name. The faster and harder he moves, the more desperate he sounds and Sirius knows that, in a few moments, it will all be over; they would have done that which they had secretly sworn to themselves they would never do.

* * *

Remus felt Sirius bite his shoulder and felt the way he filled him, his hand struggling to keep its grasp. But it was enough; it was over, and Remus felt the breathless sensation pass from Sirius and in, and out, of him, becoming rigid, his arms trembling as he struggled, under the weight of his desire to remain upright.

* * *

For the longest of moments Sirius simply caught his breath, his mouth still on Remus' shoulder as he shudders against him. He doesn't want to move, he wants to cling to the lingering pleasure, which is slowly ebbing away.

* * *

Remus is the first to move, his arms and legs finally giving way under the weight and pressure they have endured, causing Sirius to slowly move back. Remus feels an emptiness he never felt possible as Sirius slips beside him, placing an arm across his waist.

* * *

Sirius, for a moment, debated whether or not this would be an appropriate time to make a joke; to say anything it all. As if sensing his thoughts, Remus raised an eyebrow and shook his head, and Sirius says nothing as he pulls the cover that has long since slipped from the floor over to cover them both.

* * *

"What now?" Remus says, allowing the silence to become so uncomfortable as to inspire more than a few worrying looks from his friend.

Sirius smiled, knowing that neither of them really knew the answer to that question, leaning in, almost experimentally, to see what Remus would do.

Remus smiles as he allows his lips to touch Sirius', causing Sirius to sigh, maybe relieved, as he pulled away.

"The world can wait," Sirius says, flipping over on to his back, arms under his head, closing his eyes as he finished, "For now, at least."

* * *

All you can do and review and let me know what you think xxx


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Th morning after the night before. And, for the last time for now at least, we return to Remus' persepctive.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter so there is no need to sue.

* * *

When Remus next opened his eyes the heat of midday had filled the room, causing it to be humid and smell stale. For a long time he had slipped in and out of consciousness, dreams and thoughts tumbling over one another as he woke, only momentarily, before drifting back to sleep. As he stretched his body was unwilling to move, the muscles in the backs of his legs tightening as he raised his arms above him and yawned. As he had shifted he had expected to brush up against the man that had been beside him yet as he was met with nothing but a sleepless space, Remus shot up, his head swimming, listening for sounds in the room beyond.

The radio had been switched on and the droning voice of the news reporter floated on the stifled air and reassured Remus as he got up and moved to the bathroom. One of the towels had been taken from its place on the rail; condensation still clung to the air and the mirror was steamed from the warm water that had left pelted marks on the shower screen.

Washing loosened his limbs. He dressed and opened the curtains, blinking guiltily up at the sun that was sailing through the bright blue sky. They had wasted enough time, Sirius had said to him, and now they were still both guilty of doing that. Even so, for a moment Remus hesitated, one hand on the bedroom door, not really sure what they would have to say to each other now; frightened that he wouldn't be able to meet his friend's eyes. But they had important work to do; Voldemort had returned and, however much the idea appealed to him, Remus could not spend the whole day in bed.

Sirius was sat in the low wicker chair beneath the small, square window, a newspaper resting on his knees. He was yet to get dressed; he had the towel round his waist and Remus thought idly of the wet patch there would be on the cushions beneath. He looked up at the sound of the door opening and Remus managed some sort of reassuring smile before moving to the sink to fill the kettle.

"Tea?" he asked, his hands trembling slightly as he ignited the flames of the stove with his wand.

"I want my own clothes," Sirius said with a sigh. "As much as your taste is…inoffensive I'd rather have my own things."

Remus took down two cups and shook out the tea leaves, slicing the lemon and, keeping his back to Sirius, asked, "Did Dumbledore give you any indication of when you would be able to move to Grimmauld Place?"

"There wasn't really much time for all that. I'm sure he'll be in contact in a few days." As Remus turned around to face Sirius he saw he was looking at the boarded up plaster fireplace on the opposite side of the room.

"I don't suppose you're connected to the Floo Network?"

Remus shook his head.

"Not for years now."

As Remus poured the hot water, Sirius rose to his feet, yawning and scratching his stomach with the back of one hand. It was surreal but even though Remus now knew his friend's body intimately, he still felt he didn't have the right to look.

"Well, what shall I wear then?"

"Anything," Remus moved to sit at the table, the legs scraping back as he gave his hands something to do by raising the cup and blowing away some of the steam.

Sirius smiled.

"They don't fit me right…not very flattering. Your legs are much longer than mine." He moved so he was standing behind him and placed his hands on Remus' shoulders. "But you used to be so much taller than me."

"You've grown," Remus said.

"I was always afraid I'd be stunted by my years in Azkaban…"

"Growth isn't simply a matter of height."

Sirius barked sharply at this, withdrawing his hands and retreating to the bedroom to get dressed. Remus continued to stare down into the amber coloured liquid. When Sirius returned it was odd to see him dressed in his things, making them appear so different on his body. He sat down in the chair opposite Remus and took a large gulp of tea before swinging his legs over the side of the chair and saying, "You're thinking too much."

"Am I?" Remus asked, not knowing whether this was true or not.

Sirius nodded, a smile of vague amusement curling the corners of his mouth.

"You've always done melancholy so well…" Remus couldn't help but laugh at this, and Sirius, cocking his head to one side and sending his hair over his shoulder, said, "Come on then, Moony. I may have been away for twelve years but I still remember what that look means. I know you're just dying to say something."

Remus nodded down at his tea and, after hesitating for a moment, he asked in a small voice, "Have there been many others?"

Instead of laughing as Remus had expected Sirius said nothing, his eyebrows raising slightly as he replied, "Do you mean women?"

Fighting the urge to blush, Remus backtracked, mumbling something under his breath before muttering, "I meant men."

Sirius smiled at this, a smile of derision that made Remus feel as if he was taking pleasure in the awkwardness of a conversation that had, in many ways, come too late.

"Not one," was Sirius' eventual two word response, causing Remus to feel awash with relief but a little surprised nonetheless. "How about you, Mister Moony?"

Remus thought of the times that he had considered his feelings towards Sirius and towards other men. He had known for quite some time that, however telling one might be of the other, they were not intrinsically linked. Remus shook his head.

"I suppose there is a first time for everything." The words seemed more insensitive than Remus intended and Sirius' smile dropped. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded…I'm just not sure what should happen now."

"The same as what would usually happen with a woman," Sirius said, draining the remnants of tea before shrugging and continuing, "It can mean everything or nothing, depending on your point of view."

"And what is your point of view?" Remus asked, trying his best to be level-headed, very carefully making it seem that, either way, he didn't care.

"Look Remus," Sirius said, his voice a little heated. Clearly their time apart had not affected Sirius' habit of becoming impatient with Remus' sense of moderation. "What happened…happened and I won't take it back, if that's what you're implying. And I don't regret it either, if that's what you were expecting me to say…" Sirius paused, his eyes fixing on Remus' face, his hands spread on the table before him as he said, after a sigh, "I've never known how things have stood with us. It's always been a bit…hazy…never quite clear. And last night I think we both finally worked out what we wanted…what we had wanted for a very long time."

"Are you straight, Sirius?" Remus blurted out the question he had been toying with ever since he had awoken and tried to rationalise what had happened. Maybe they had both spent too much time apart; maybe it had been an adverse affect of not seeing each other for so long. Maybe Sirius had just been so lonely, missing affection, craving someone's touch so badly that anyone, whether male or female, would have been enough.

"Oh, well I have had my fair share of female admirers. And, very obviously, I have enjoyed myself with them," Sirius had stood up and was now pacing, his voice increasingly erratic, as he turned back to face Remus and finish sarcastically, "But you know, it's funny, I also enjoyed sleeping with a man, so I suppose I must be a little bit bent."

They were getting nowhere, Remus thought, struggling to suppress the urge to roll his eyes as he moved over to the sideboard and banished the empty teacups.

"You know I have been wondering," Sirius said, leaning back against the shabby kitchen cabinets that were peeling with green paint. "I've been wondering for a long time whether it is simply that I have a thing about men, or whether or not it is just because I wanted you."

Remus could tell, as he quickly obscured Sirius from his view by opening a cupboard, that he was scrutinising him as he had spoken.

"And," Sirius said, his feet padding softly over the carpet, bringing him so he was standing beside Remus. He had tried to find something to occupy himself with in the cupboard but Sirius, being Sirius, had not been deceived, and was now forcing himself into his personal space in a way that Remus should have come to expect. "Despite your admirable sensitivity and your fastidious nature…" His voice had become lower as he forced Remus to look at him, and meet his mocking eyes, "I never once took you for anything but heterosexual."

"Is that supposed to be some sort of a compliment?"

"In a way," Sirius said, moving his hand to the side of Remus' face, as though this was a gesture he had performed a million times before. Under his touch Remus felt a lingering remembrance of the pleasure of the night before returning, and something about Sirius' face gave Remus the impression that he was recalling it too.

"It won't be the same now; it can't be," Remus said, desperately wanting to make Sirius see things from his perspective. Sirius nodded and, frustrated, Remus batted away his hand and continued, flustered, "You have to listen because I don't know if you understand that we've changed everything. We've only ever known friendship and now…we can't go back."

Sirius' expression darkened so Remus hastily pressed on. "I don't regret it. I'm glad that it happened but…don't you see? We can never go back to being what we once were with to one another. I couldn't…" Remus laughed to himself and lowered his head and Sirius, closing the cupboard placed his hands on Remus' shoulder, as he raised his face and continued, without embarrassment, "I wouldn't want to, not now. Not now I know that it wasn't just me, alone, in feeling how I felt for you."

With a shock Remus realised just how Sirius' face had softened, flooding with empathy.

"You always seemed so cold to me, Moony, so bloody judicious that I could never have known…" Sirius paused, laughing momentarily, at the confused look on Remus' face.

"Whereas you expressed every feeling you had whenever you had them, never mind who you offended, or who got in your way…." Remus stopped himself from continuing, realising how, even though this had been true, it had never once meant that Sirius had said what he truly thought, or how he really felt.

"I know you don't like change, Padfoot," Remus said quietly, feeling a little odd at the use of an old nickname that hadn't passed his lips for years. To his surprise, Sirius rolled his eyes before replying, "I didn't, and then_ everything_ changed. The whole world is changing, and we have to change too to survive. We barely lasted last time…and now…" Sirius' smile was wistful as he gave Remus a shake as he said "Now it seems we've got so much more to lose."

Remus nodded, in complete agreement. "We owe it to Lily and James, to their memory, not to lose. And to Harry; Harry must be protected."

"And we owe it to ourselves," Sirius said, moving his hands to the back of Remus' neck, holding him in a firm grip so that he could not back away from Sirius' indeterminable grey eyes. "We owe it to each other to change the way we are, to change the way we've always been and try, at least, to be something different…something better."

Remus' smile would not be denied and, although he was undoubtedly frightened of what this newness might mean, he could not refuse his friend any longer.

"What about others?" Remus asked, clinging to the familiar comfort of hesitancy, as Sirius seemed to be suddenly more interested with the hair at the back of Remus' neck. "What about what other people will say?"

"Bloody hell, Remus, you'd think with having to handle something as anti-social as your furry little problem, you'd be relieved at having something as decidedly average as being involved in a homosexual dalliance with your recently estranged friend to deal with…"

"You forgot mass-murdering, slightly unhinged…"

"Quite," Sirius said. "You've always cared much more than I have what other people think. Does it really matter what anyone else thinks? Is it really anyone else's business asides from our own?"

For a moment, Remus considered whether or not anyone else should be told; indulging in imagining other people's reactions. Would it be as bad, or even worse, than the reaction he faced when people discovered about his lycanthropy? Sirius was right; no-one else needed to know.

Sirius kissed him then for the first time since he had woken and it was as though there was nothing more natural for them to do. They had kissed, in the past, in this room before, only this time they were equals; they knew how important it was to them both.

"Don't think that this gives you some sort of allowance to take liberties with my hospitality," Remus mumbled into Sirius' mouth, which was becoming increasingly persistent against his. Sirius gave a sharp bark of laughter.

"Hospitality now, is it?"

Remus tried to formulate a coherent response but was distracted by Sirius' insistent hands that were greedily roaming his back.

"So this is how it's going to be now, is it?" Remus said, a little stifled, trying to focus on anything but allowing his present situation to remind him of the promise of pleasure. Sirius' hair tickled against Remus' throat. "You're going to use this new found…familiarity to your advantage?"

Sirius' mouth was wet against his ear as he whispered, hotly, "Abso-bloody-lutely."

* * *

Huzzah! Originally I had intended to leave it unresolved but then I realised that, despite me best intentions, it simply had to happen. I shall be writing other things in the future. I have a few one shots to upload and, for a very long time, have been toying with the idea of writing a longer fic about the events of Godric's Hollow. However, after reading Deathly Hallows this might change, but I hope some of you will stick by me as a writer and look out for my stories to read. Byebye and happy reading this weekend! xxx


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